


Boys Will Be Toys

by FandomsAndBandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, BDSMLock, Bondage, Chastity Device, Kinky, M/M, Riding Crops, Sex Slave, Whips, bottomjohn, idek, toplock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2015553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAndBandoms/pseuds/FandomsAndBandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Notes...uhm...kinky johnlock smut...</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes...uhm...kinky johnlock smut...

Jonathan Small was a criminal like his surname, short in height, squat and with a tendency towards narrow minded brooding. He had a nasty streak a mile wide and was stomping around the basement of an abandoned warehouse looking for someone to chew up and spit out. He was at his most dangerous as he surveyed Ben Sigerson, a lanky young man who was a new recruit, guarding the door. He had devised another test of Ben's obedience and loyalty before he would trust him further. This would be very amusing. “It's time you had a reward.” Small circled him like he was prey. Sherlock stood quietly sensing Small moving around him as the criminal laughed with evil intent. “Miss Deary, an associate of mine, a Dominatrix, has a lucrative sideline in sex slaves for hire. I'm giving you a blank cheque for a boy to use for a month.” She would, of course, report on progress. Shock then worry crossed the detective's face. He hadn't bargained on becoming a pawn to be used for Small's amusement while finding out where one young man had vanished to for his client, a distraught mother. He wasn't interested in sex let alone anorexic teenage boys with vulgar 'fuck me' eyes. This was so very funny, watching Sigerson's face change. Small pulled a business card and a blank cheque from his expensive suit pocket. “LEARN TO LIKE IT. I expect to hear glowing reports on your progress.”

So it was that Sherlock was stepping out of a limousine and into the overheated air of Miss Deary's plush premises to take a seat in the already half-filled auction room wondering what the hell he was getting into here and how he was going to keep his cover from being blown. "What do you fancy?" Miss Angeline Deary swished to Smalls' employee and smiled gratuitously in expectancy of a fat cheque. "The tall blond has an amazing tongue, or a pain slut if that's your pleasure the little dark haired lad maybe, there's a little ginger gagging for cock, very willing. Or do you like to break them?" She swanned off to greet another guest who had deep pockets and was always looking for something to break.

  


John frowned, looking around the dingy, dank room he'd been unceremoniously shoved inside of. Now donned in only his underwear and a leash, he was resigned to sitting in the corner until it was his tun to be auctioned.  _Well, isn't this truly delightful?_  John Watson, top MI5 agent, was being sold as a slave. He was undercover, working on the case of the missing boys. He'd offered himself as a slave. Some random bloke's goddamn slave. And he couldn't do anything about it without risking everything. So he had to play as if he wanted this. Please, he'd never want to be property. Some seedy old guy who only cared about his next release. Or some touch guy who wanted a pet to break. Either way, he had no clue of his future here.  
  
John was the seventh slave to be auctioned. It wasn't a very nice affair: He was dragged from the room, paraded about on stage like a piece of meat, and made to stand there while ravenous, greedy, desperate eyes devoured him.  _They're like bloody vultures._ Finally, after what seemed like hours of being visually fucked, beaten and whipped, the auction was over and he was tugged over to his new owner. And he was...attractive. Tall, with curly dark hair and sharp eyes that would cut though glass. 

  


Sherlock didn't know what he wanted only what he didn't want if he was going to have to go through with this ridiculous charade. He endured the auction proceedings while acting like he was interested but with a supercillious air of a man with a bottomless wallet who knew the price of everything and the value of nothing. The older pudgy man dressed in leather was followed by a thin waif, the pain slut, and the gagging ginger, a muscular brunette and the amazing tongue. Number 7 was it 7 or 8  Sherlock was losing count. A reluctant sandy blond in his thirties. The bidder in front who liked toys to break called 10 grand. Sherlock promptly called “Twelve”. “Fifteen” his rival bid. Something rose in Sherlock suddenly making him determined to have number 7 with the straight back and the blue eyes that scorned the slavering mass. “Twenty.” There was a gasp but no rival bid. That's settled then!   
  
Number 7 was brought over and a dark haired, middle aged female promptly escorted the guest and his purchase to one of the suites upstairs. “Bathroom through there, toy cupboard here, everything should be sanitised already, the floggers are new in sealed packets, you provide your own outfits,  obviously. You have the suite for the month any damages are extra.”  She reeled off.  
  
“Thank you.” Sherlock responded coldly while looking at the unusual wall divider. A stainless steel frame with two sets of shackle points attached to the ceiling. He could imagine his...toy...naked, legs spread, shackled in position, to touch, explore, discover what made him tremble with desire. Because something must.  
  
The female left them to it.   
  
“Do you have a name?” Sherlock asked the sandy blond pinning his gaze on the man.

  


_Jesus fucking Christ. I just got sold for twenty grand. For a whole bloody month. Doing whatever the posh git tells me to do. He better fucking enjoy it, because I goddamn won't_    
  
John kept his thoughts to himself as he shuffled along, his eyes glued to the floor. He wanted to play the part well, his life did depend on it after all. If he wasn't in such a position he would have scoffed at the situation. Pretending to be a fucking sex slave for some posh, arrogant, disgusting man. He better not fuck this shit up.  
  
As he was lead into the room he allowed his eyes to flicker up briefly, scanning the surroundings.  _Goddamnit, I am royally screwed. Quite literally. At least the bastard looks hot._  "My name is John," He answered, keeping his tone small and polite. "Sir."

  


  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hella sorry for the slow update...if anyone's even reading this... ._.

Sherlock did a quick scan for details. There wasn't much to go on which was inconvenient. Those sapphire eyes had looked back at the lascivious hoard bidding like vulture for a carcase and had gone to the carpet on the way up here now they glanced at the room sweeping over him. Not willing, not an old hand at this game, somehow resigned? Certainly intriguing, handsome too. Muscular not soft. The tan line at the man's neck was interesting. An active man, outdoors type. He was too well dressed to be desperate for the money. Not willing enough to be in it for the sex. Probably the first time. A pleasant tenor voice and an amusing belligerent 'sir'. The man might actually have some fire in him.   
  
“John.” Sherlock rolled the name around, spreading it out softly into the air. “You can call me Ben but don't call me Sir until you mean it." He paused. "You haven't done this before.” It was a statement not a question. “I'm sure you have your reasons though I don't think it's for the money or the sex, is it. What do you like, John, the thrill of the chase? Danger?”

 

"Guess I won't be calling you sir then." John muttered, a little too sullenly for his tastes. Ben's eyes were flying over him in a manner different to the vulture-like hoards below them, but in a more curious nature, as if he was trying to find out every small detail about him. It wasn't unpleasant, just slightly unwelcome.  
  
John decided not to answer the question he'd been given, in favour of looking up again and scanning the man in front of him.  _Blue/green eyes, dark curly hair, cheekbones, Christ he has cheekbones. Deep, baritone voice, quite attractive actually. Pale skinned, dressed well, expensive clothes. Obviously doesn't go out much, but earns a lot of money. Somehow reckons I'm worth twenty grand._    
  
He frowned, looking around the room once more. Ornate and elegant, for the most part, save the wall divider. Tall and imposing, John frowned at the small twitch his cock gave.  _Holy shit._  His eyes widened as he took in the shackles, Ben being temporarily forgotten about.  _I really do swear too much. Oh well. Fucking hell._

 

Sherlock let his amusement soften his features. He reckoned he had nailed John's liking for adventure by the way the blond avoided answering. It seemed that John was weighing him up and not disliking what he saw. He could say the same. He was seeing a man who, despite being at a bit of a height disadvantage, was absolutely not intimidated. Now he was actually very interested in John and dropped into deduction mode.  _Mentally strong, stubborn, can take care of himself. Military length haircut. Used the term, sir, with a tone suggesting he knows precisely who earns his respect and who doesn't. Military bearing. Tan lines. Not Navy or R.A.F, the tone in his voice says educated, London. Ex Army. Officer._  
  
His thoughts went back to his rival bidder looking for a toy to break. John was not a toy that could easily be broken. Nor did Sherlock wish to damage him. Reduce him to a puddle of desire perhaps but not to harm John. John was bloody distracting. Thank God for Small's hetero-normative assumption that all real men were straight. He would have been in a position if he'd had to buy a woman to use. Not in a position he wished to think about.   
  
The inquisitive blond's now steel blue-gray eyes flicked away to the elegant surroundings, widening at the sight of the wall divider. He sidled up behind John and almost whispered in a deep velvety rumble. “You can tell me what you like, John. Or I'll have to find out for myself.” 

 

"Oh, is that so? Are you some sort of genius then?" John snorted as he walked around the main room, examining it in more detail. Standard equipment, kitchen, living room with TV, that sort of thing, just much more expensive. Exactly what someone would expect to find in a normal hotel suite  
  
 _Except this isn't a normal hotel, dipshit._  John sighed, he really did need to quit swearing so much. Making sure to avoid looking at Ben, he disappeared into the bathroom to look in there too. Extravagant marble bath, separate shower, sink and toilet in excellent condition.  _I wouldn't mind staying here, just without the sex slave part._ He hummed and made his way back into the main room, slipping his shoes off and placing them by the door.

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued watching John explore the suite. It didn't take a genius to work out that, like himself, John wasn't here for the good of his health. He wasn't a genius but he wasn't exactly slow in the brains department. The fittings and fixtures didn't interest Sherlock but the toy cupboard was worth a look into. He watched John stroll back in and take his shoes off and drop them at the door. A man of tidy habits. He took a sidewards glance at John. “Not like army accommodation is it.”  
  
The detective was already opening the toy cupboard doors. There were gadgets that Sherlock could deduce the use of and some that defied even guesswork. John didn't look like a man who would be into huge strap on dildo penis extenders. Sherlock couldn't see the point in those. Or rather he could see the points and a couple of them would worry a horse.  Cock rings of leather or rubber and some other material with vibrators, a stainless steel chastity device with rings of vibrating buttons. “I want you to to put on the bottom shelf the toys that you don't like the look of and put the gadgets that interest you on the middle shelf.” Sherlock took the instruction booklet and strode off to lay on the sumptuous extra large bed.   
  
It was an interesting device to lock on with a remote control operated by a hand held keypad or by texting a number. Different numbers produced different power of vibration levels and pulse patterns. 

 

John simply nodded and watched as Ben strolled into the bedroom with an instruction leaflet.  _The bedroom that I'll have to bloody share with him._  He shook the thought from his head and wandered over to the cupboard.  
  
His first thought was that there was a hell of a lot more in there than he was expecting. Name a toy, it was there. After a few minutes he started to sort them all out. Most of the dildos went to the bottom shelf, save a couple of smaller ones that vibrated. The size of them quite frankly unnerved him, so he didn't dwell on those mental images. He also put the metal cock ring on the bottom shelf, but moved the leather one to the middle. The ringed chastity belt was also moved to the middle, along with a paddle and a riding crop. The rest he left on the top shelf, unsure of what they actually were.  
  
"Alright, genius, I'm done." He called, shutting the cupboard door and padding into the bedroom. "Half of them I was unsure about, or had no idea what they were, so I left them."

 

Sherlock felt they might be getting somewhere when John simply nodded and began sorting out the toy cupboard. “Thank you”. He mumbled absorbed in memorising the numbers for operating the ringed chastity device. The device had advantages. On a low setting it would arouse and excite, on a medium setting it would heighten the sensations, on pulse it would cut on and off sustaining arousal but delaying an orgasm and the bonus would be that he could leave John tonight to find out who the rival bidder was. John would also not be able to remove it or bring himself off. He looked up as John addressed him as 'genius' and queried it a moment “You think so?” he almost blushed and looked down at the instruction booklet with a pleased smile. The man wasn't an idiot, he had realised that sorting the toys showed what he would like.  
  
John was easy to be with, obviously honest. He liked honesty. “I've no idea what some of the things are for either.” He dropped the booklet, leaped up energetically and strode to the cupboard. “Ah, I have the instructions for that.” He pointed at the ring cage and turned to John. “John, it should be obvious to you that I'm not here to harm you or um.. Well, anyway, I have a clean health record. In case you were wondering. Strip off and we'll try this out.” 


	3. Chapter 3

John was a tad confused at Ben's modesty, he was expecting another reaction from the small compliment. Amusement or an arrogant smirk, yes. An almost blush and a pleased smile, no. "Uh, yeah I guess so. You seem clever enough." He shrugged, following Sherlock towards the cupboard.  
  
 _Well, he's awfully bloody forward._  
  
He chuckled at the thought and sent Ben a look of disbelief. "What? Er, yeah, right. Okay." He blushed as he stumbled over the words, his eyes glued to the floor as he started to undress.  
  
A couple of minutes later and he was stood there in only his underwear, the blush darkening to a beetroot colour. He wasn't ashamed about his body, he was well built and muscled, he could thank his job for that. No, he was more embarrassed over the fact that he was stood near naked in front of someone that he'd known for less than two hours.

 

Sherlock was still trying to compute something that made sense about John, there was a chuckle, almost inaudible but definitely a chuckle from John. The beginning of, well, friendship. He didn't have friends so it was... nice? Fine? Fine. Yes, fine. He really didn't get though why John was studying the carpet, flushed pink at undressing and stood a minute or so later in his boxers blushing a much redder shade.   
  
The early impression Sherlock had got turned out to be not only correct but a little bit of an underestimation. His eyes widened with interest and he bit his lip at how John was compact and toned with sculpted muscles. There was a faint tan which gave him an attractive, healthy glow. But John was beetroot so perhaps he had done something wrong. “Not good?” He asked quietly.

 

He could feel Ben's eyes on him again, as curious as they were the last time. He didn't mind so much though, a second thought made him realise that he could have done much worse. A sleazy older guy, a vicious midddle aged man, there was all sorts down there. He especially remembered a man who looked as if his sole purpose was to buy a slave to break. And that guy was also bidding for him.   
  
 _Bloody heck, I'm glad I'm not whichever poor soul got sold to that guy._  
  
"Just embarrassment, nothing to worry about. I don't make a habit of stripping in front of strangers." He chuckled again, sending Ben a small smile. "But it'll pass." He added, toying with the waistband of his pants. "Want these off too?" He asked, biting his lip and willing his blush to disappear.

 

“I deduced that it was your first time at this.” Sherlock replied when John explained why he had gone red. If he was about to say anything else clever it didn't make it past being a half formed thought as John gave a short laugh and flashed him a little smile and he fiddled with the waistband of his underpants.  _Good God. He's nice._  He wanted to make John laugh and smile more if it was at him. Sherlock, toying with his lip, nodded at the idea of the boxers coming off. “Mm, yes, but the bed. You probably won't want to stand up to try this...it's a bit good. I think.”  
  
Sherlock wheeled off to the bedroom section peeling off his suit jacket and slinging it carelessly on a bench of some sort on the way through. He wasn't sure if he should undress too as he wasn't intending to do anything that required him naked. He settled for throwing himself as he was onto the enormous bed.

 

Ah, then you 'deduced' correctly, genius." John hummed, picking up his clothes and following Ben into the bedroom. He quickly folded them and placed them on the same bench before slipping his boxers off and placing them on top of the small pile. He could feel his cheeks heat up again as he shuffled over to the bed, sitting awkwardly on the edge.  
  
 _Deducing? Jesus, he really is a genius._  
  
He chewed on his bottom lip nervously as he glanced over at Ben, splayed out on the ornate bed. Waiting for his next instruction, he scanned the room they were currently in. Silk bedsheets, he noted, comfortable mattress. Thick walls, probably useful. Fluffy carpets, the sort of luxury room one would expect.

 

 _Genius. He called me genius again._  Sherlock was thrilled to have found someone who didn't call him Freak or Stupid. It was good too because usually the only people who ever wanted him was to use his brain to solve their problems for them. He shuffled unnecessarily as John discarded his underwear on the neat pile and sat on the edge of the bed. "You've nothing to be embarrassed about. Really." He tried to assure and tugged at the duvet with it's silk cover suggesting that John might like to get under the covers.  
  
The metal cage would be warming up snug in his lap. "Would it be better if I got undressed too?" He wasn't the least bit embarrassed about his body. It was a body.

 

John sent Ben another small smile and shuffled so he was sat underneath the silk covers, his back propped up against the headboard. "I, uh, thank you." He mumbled, his fingers fiddling with the sheets as he glanced at the man next to him.

_Well, the bed's comfortable, at least. Very comfortable._  

He hummed as he took in Ben's words, glancing at his lap where the metal cage lay. "Well, you can if you want to. It'd probably make me feel more secure, I guess." He admitted quietly, biting his lip. "But you don't have to."

 

 

Sherlock found himself charmed by John's modesty. He took a long look at the muscles on John's neck where they sloped to his shoulders and the groove up John's back. He's quite possibly the politest man on the planet too. Hell, Sherlock thought, he reckoned he might not be the most sensitive man in the world but he wasn't Mycroft or a brute. “Okay” He handed over the vibrating cage and placed the remote control on the bedside cabinet.   
  
He rolled off the capacious bed and sat on the edge stooping to take off his shoes and socks. His shirt tightened against his back as the buttons strained at the pressure. Then he stood turned sideways to unbutton his cuffs and the front of his shirt exposing a hard line of muscle. Unfastening his trousers he let them drop and turned slightly away from John to take off his silk boxers, his thumbs in the groove by his hips and with a graceful smooth movement slid them down and then stepped out of everything.   
  
It might just be a body but it was one responding a tad to John's physical charms and that surprised him. He unhurriedly peeled his shirt off and let it drop then smiled and dived under the covers. The pale cream silk sheets were deliciously cool against his skin as he settled his head on the pillow.

 

John blushed again at the man's eyes on him, a slight frown setting on his face as he made a mental note to stop blushing so much whenever Ben looked at him. He was a bloody secret agent, for God's sake!

Despite this, he made no effort in hiding his gaze flickering over the undressing man, an obvious pupil dilation as he took in the creamy, pale, smooth skin. The obviously defined muscles. It occurred to him, for probably the third or forth time, that this was a very attractive man. And well, in case his mind hadn't worked that out, his body had no problem telling him.

He focused his attention on the cage in his hands, his blue eyes taking in every detail. Images flitted through his mind about the possibilities involved, which did nothing to flag his growing erection. Handing the metal cage back, he settled into a more comfortable position on the bed.

 

Sherlock made his head more comfortable on the pillow and looked up benignly at John who was still an interesting pink, taking back possession of the shiny cage thrust at him while John slipped under the sheets. The detective was independent, with a sharp, laser focus on what he was engaged in; which was usually a case to the exclusion of practically everything else. That naturally led him to be celibate by default and not choice. He was a virgin, sex was never on the agenda. It was just body parts slotted together only as meaningful as shaking hands, wasn't it?  
  
John's eyes, now a dark cobalt blue, his pupils dilated, held Sherlock's attention. The detective assumed that his eyes mirrored John's because his brain was reinforcing what was happening in his trouser department. His member was soft but enlarged.   
  
There was an almost awkward hush that he wanted to break and, while looking down at the cage, totally didn't know how. He giggled nervously and thrust it back at John.“Are we going to play pass the parcel with this?”

 

 

John allowed his thoughts to wander during the almost, but not quite awkward silence. Different images popped up of him and Ben in different...comprising situations, which fluttered away almost as quickly as they appeared. He certainly wasn't a virgin, but the last time he'd been with a man was in his late teens. It was an awkward fumble, hands here and there, neither of them really knew what they were doing. They just wanted to know what it was like. It wasn't an unpleasant experience, but it wasn't particularly pleasing either.  
  
But Ben, he looked like he was different. He looked like he would easily find every single one of his sensitive spots and use them to reduce him to a puddle of desire as easily as he would read the morning paper.  
  
John chuckled again as the cage was thrust back at him, he raised an eyebrow, sent Ben a confused look and promptly handed it back to him. "Well, we can if we want. I'm sure there's something that we'd both rather do with it, don't you think?"

 

 

Sherlock frowned for a moment feeling confused then, seeing John's face, burst out laughing when John immediately shoved the parcel back at him like it was a hot potato.  _God, but John's chuckle is musical and that smile lights up his face. And sexy._  John would look wonderful wearing the cage.  _Oh. Oh, fuck, yes._  The thoughts stirred Sherlock into a squirm of desire to discover more about the sexy man he was laid next to and he felt a new sensation of warmth pooling deep inside his belly.   
  
“Yes, yes there is. Um, you lie back and uh, relax. ” Sherlock groaned in baritone and eagerly struggled to sit up to fit John into the very promising device. “I memorised the instructions. First  remove the ring from the coils." Holding the ring section he peeled the covers back, his eyelids fluttered as his brain threatened to off-line.  _Oh, hell but you are gorgeous._  “Insert the, uh them, the scrotum, into the ring. Step two, insert the.. yes, down the tube.”    
  
"How is that?" He asked and picked up the coils section to fit over the short tube. “Line up the..and lock into place with the padlock or with the allen key at A and B. Allen key I think. You may want to wear it for a while.” His fingers were trembling while his heartbeat had gone up two notches. "I may want you to wear it for a while." He added fervently.

 

John smile only widened as Ben laughed, even if it was at his own expense.  _He looks stunning when he looks happy. His eyes morph into a crescent shape, that adorable dimple by the left side of his lips, the way his face creases up. It's truly beautiful. Amazing. Ethereal even._  
  
John continued to think of adjectives to describe the gorgeous man, his eyes locked on the younger's face. He liked Ben's laughing face, but his appearance when he concentrated was something else. His eyebrows furrowed together, bottom lip sticking out in a very lovely, pouty way, the way those ever changing eyes would dart around as he took every detail in.  
  
In fact, John was so busy studying Ben and cataloging as much as he could, he barely even felt the cage being put on until the man in question moved his hands away. It took him a second to catch up with what was being said, a short burst of sheepish laughter bubbling from his lips. "Hmm? Oh right, it feels fine. Interesting, but not in a bad way."

 

"That's.. yes." Sherlock's gaze flickered over John's chest and on up his neck to his expressive face. "You look very delicious in that." He smirked happily, rolled across to the bedside cabinet and stretched out to grab the remote control then rolled back and shuffled up to John's side.   
  
He hesitated a moment before deciding to lean across John's chest and rest his arm to prop himself up which brought his face close to John's. His eyes dropped to John's lips and, feeling drawn to those warm looking lips he closed the gap between them. His top lip brushed lightly against John's lower lip, drawing down, setting it tingling, then he withdrew a fraction to savour the sensation.

 

John settled himself back down, getting used to the weight of the cage."Well, I'm glad you like it, Ben." He smirked slightly, glancing down at his crotch before up at Ben again. "It certainly looks fun." He added, his eyes flitting all over Ben.

When the younger man leant forward and kissed him, well, brushed their lips together,John gasped and exhaled, looking at Ben. After a moment he sent him a small smile and leant forward, capturing his lips in a soft, chaste kiss.

 

Sherlock knew that John was interested and was running his eyes over his body. He wondered what John saw. To himself it was nothing but the vehicle that got his brain from A to B. Yet it responded to John which was quite startling. More remarkable still was John's response to their lips meeting fleetingly with an intake of breath and a folding of his lips over his own. "Mmm nice." It was very pleasant.  _You can do that again._    
  
He shifted his leg over the top of John's leg, nestling himself against John's side, pushing John's legs apart and returned the soft, tender kiss.  _Time for setting one._  He pressed the soft touch number one on the remote keypad with his thumb. The device thrummed into life sending a weak, steady vibration through his thigh where it touched the cage. "That's only setting one" He mumbled breaking the kiss and looked into John's cobalt orbs to see what he thought.

 

  
_Bloody hell, he's gorgeous. I hope he knows that._  The thought flickered through John's mind but it was not dwelled on. He did find Ben attractive, incredibly so. But the man seemed indifferent to his body, as if it was a vessel and nothing more than that.  _A hot as fuck vessel._  He reminded himself, for what must have been the fifth time that night. 

The kiss was lovely. It was soft and sweet, no rush or swipes of a tongue. Just simple and tender.  _He can do that whenever he wants to._  John smiled again, spreading his legs when he felt Ben's legs push in between them.

As the cage was switched on, Ben broke his kiss, searching his eyes for a reaction. The small vibration which Ben must be feeling was doubled in intensity as it buzzed and thrummed. "Feels good." John whispered, a small moan bubbling from his lips.

 

Sherlock was having to rethink what he thought he knew about matters of the intimate kind as he discovered that kissing was something he wanted to do more of. With John, of course, not anybody else. He abhorred dishonesty except when it was required to catch a criminal. They waived all rights to fair play as far as he was concerned. And here was John, miraculously trusting him with his body. He felt he could trust John too. His name and his job wasn't known.  
  
 _Oh, yes, make those noises._  "It feels good to me too. And my name's actually Sherlock." He feathered a couple of experimental kisses along John's jaw line on the bone tasting the slight saltiness, breathing in John's aroma of mint toothpaste, shampoo, aftershave, tea and London. The little kisses followed John's jawbone to the hollow below his ear. He was aware that he was getting an erection and shifted his hips a little backwards. Without thinking about it, his thoughts on John and the sweetness of him making a sound of pleasure, Sherlock's thumb slid over to the number two on the keypad. 

 

 _Okay, so maybe I'm a little gay._  John thought, giving a short burst of laughter.  _But only for this guy. He's different._  John wasn't sure why exactly he was trusting Ben, he only knew that he could defend himself if needed. Not that he would need to, Ben had had plenty of opportunities to take him and abuse him, but he didn't. He was quickly proving John wrong, this was turning out to be very pleasant indeed.  
  
"Sherlock. That's a nice name." John smiled, testing the name out. "It's unique, unusual. But in a good way." He tilted his head to the side to give Sherlock more room, letting out a breathy moan. "Better than John, anyway." When the setting was changed he whimpered and moaned, bucking his hips up. "Oh my God!"

 

"You like it. Oh." Sherlock was puzzled but pleased. Thrilled. "John." Sherlock wanted to keep saying John's name he liked it so much. Liked it's owner too. And he never liked people, except once in a blue flood, so that was monumental.   
  
"I like 'John' it suits you, there's something good about it."  _Good and wholesome._    
  
"Oh-er." Sherlock responded as John made a deliciously wanton whimper then his hips thrust upward. Without a second's thought Sherlock instinctively took in a mouthful of skin and muscle on John's neck and he sucked in a breath. "Ohhh." Sherlock moaned.  _Oh, Hell, yes. Oh, that, John._  Desire shot through Sherlock's belly making him immediately hard. John giving to him was lighting a glittering, wanting fire in him.   
  
The buzz of vibration hummed through his thigh and he jutted his hips forward pressing himself against John's leg. "You feel good, John." He mumbled into John's neck adoring John's responses to him, to what they were doing together. Feeling strangely light-headed his teeth grazed up the bare skin of John's neck whilst his hips rocked of their own volition to get some friction.

 

John was surprised that Sherlock seemed to like his name, it was ordinary. There were millions of 'John's' in the world, he was just one of them. But he doubted there was another 'Sherlock'. No, that name was unique and brilliant, just like the man himself.  
  
"Well, ohhh, t-thank you."   
  
He moaned again, his legs wrapping themselves around Sherlock's thigh and his hips bucking desperately against the smooth expanse of Sherlock's skin as his neck was sucked and nibbled on.  
  
 _Fuck, this is bloody brilliant._  The thought barely registered in his mind as he felt Sherlock rocking his hips in time to his own thrusts. _Look at us, rutting like a pair of teenagers. Who cares, it feels absolutely amazing._

 

Whatever he was doing, and it was unfamiliar territory, it was appropriate. Better still it felt good. Sherlock felt something like electricity shuddering down his spine. John wouldn't know what a leap this was for him, how could he. But it registered that John was not ordinary to be able to stir up his interest and really want to do something so intimate as this.   
  
John's legs wrapping around his thigh now gave the detective something to anchor them and he found the tip of his member becoming wet and slippery, the smoothness made for sliding at each blind, instinctive and uncertain thrust until he had a more certain, more controlled, more powerful and steadier, stimulating rhythm going. Oh, yes, that is good. Simply incredible.  
  
Sherlock renewed his attack on John's neck sensing that John liked this, searching for the places that made John gasp, hold his breath and moan. There was something very positive to be said for this if he could make this man writhe and moan so very delightfully. He was learning what John liked and he was aware now that every eager movement and sound that he could draw out of John gave him the keys to being able to control John by withholding or giving John what he obviously wanted. His hand left the remote and slid down John's chest enjoying the feel of taut muscle and heated skin under his fingertips stopping as his thumb and finger found the hard little bud of a nipple. Had power ever been so sweet in it's wielding? He doubted it.

 

John gasped, his hips pushing and rutting against Sherlock in a desperate manner - not that he cared- as he searched for the orgasm that he could feel slowly building up in the pit of his stomach. This was so unlike him, if someone told him five years ago that he would be a sex slave to such a gorgeous man, and he would bloody love it, he would have scoffed at the mere idea of it. But he was wrong, so very wrong. They'd only just started and John was already dreading the inevitable end.  
  
"Oh fuck!" He cursed as Sherlock bit at a sensitive spot in the dip of his neck, just above his collarbone. "Fuck, yeah that's good." John whimpered, grinding himself into Sherlock, another obscene moan escaping from his lips.  
  
 _Crap, I was so fucking wrong. This is goddamn glorious._  
  
John wondered how Sherlock was finding this. The younger man had moaned a few times, but nowhere near the amount John had. A brief flicker of doubt darted across his mind, making him think that Sherlock was not enjoying this, and that he should rectify that. But he didn't know what exactly to do.  
  
 _I guess I can try this.._  
  
John's bought his hand up to his mouth and licked it a few times before snaking it down to Sherlock's member, wrapping his smaller fingers around it and giving it a few hesitant, unsure strokes.

 

Sherlock was momentarily startled as he grazed his teeth across John's very fine warm neck in a hollow near his collarbone and he heard John swear again. "Ooh wonderful." Sherlock moaned lasciviously.   
  
 _Perfect, damn perfect._  
  
John had a way of mouthing obscenities that had Sherlock fizzing with excitement. "I luurrve it when you swear." He mumbled into John's neck at the next increasingly desperate profanities and nearly jumped upwards when John's hand suddenly found the target John had aimed for. "Oh Fuck!" He hissed. John could have that very gladly as fingers wrapped delicately around him and stroked. "Yes, John, yes, that's good."  
  
The light headed feeling got headier and more intoxicating and Sherlock felt his mind slipping its moorings. What's more he really didn't care. He was all nerve endings lighting up for the first time in his life. There were lights where lights could'nt be and a heat pooled in his groin that felt like a pool of lava. Like a volcano about to erupt.  _Oh God. OH God_  "I'm going to..." His body shifted itself so that the head of his erection was just above John's circled fingers.

 

John felt a surge of pride as Sherlock swore and practically jumped upwards, feeling proud that he could at least do that. The small hand continued to stroke at a leisurely pace, his thumb swiping across the tip and smearing the beads of precome over his eager finger. He'd never really done this before- well, not on anyone else- and was glad that it was having a positive effect on Sherlock.

The swearing was something John knew he could do. With a mouth that could rival a sailor's, he'd often been called crude and ungentlemanly. But Sherlock liked it. Loved it, even. And John knew that he would damn well swear as much as possible if it was something the gorgeous man enjoyed.

_Not going to last much longer. He's so bloody good as this_

John was still rutting and grinding against the brunette, his breath coming in short pants as the cage buzzed and thrummed against his leaking member. He could feel in rapid build up of an impending orgasm in his stomach, but it felt bigger, more intense and so much better than it ever had done before. "Shit, oh shit, close, so fucking close." He whimpered and moaned, tilting his head back and arching his back into Sherlock.

 

A string of earthy, colourful and ancient expletives which Sherlock never said out loud but at various times  _thought_  streaked through his mind as the tension within his core grew. John's thumb or a finger swirled over his tip, and the  _sounds!_ , the sounds that came from John. 

  
Sherlock felt both ill and thoroughly fantastic at the one and same time and groaned loudly now with passion for this exceptional man who was tying his brain in a knot. He was half demented with the sensations and of knowing that at any moment he was going to come hard and fast and there was not a thing he could do about it. His hand slid down John's muscular torso and under his bum.  
  
He thrust his hips and nibbled John's neck between desperate gulps of oxygen. Rutting like a stag, the vibrations zinged through Sherlock's erection as he came into contact with the cage. John was close, his words, his delicious whimpering took Sherlock from teetering on the edge to crash into an explosive orgasm. "Oh, fuck, John." he cried out grasping John's arse pushing and pulling them together. His hips, losing the rhythm, jolted wildly until he was bearing down on John and his muscles then spasmed throwing his seed out over John's abdomen and chest. Sherlock heaved in a huge noisy breath, a loud sob of relief and threw his head back. Panting he instinctively covered John's body with his own, his head dipped into John's neck.

 

John was sure that this man was a living embodiment of the model human. The luscious, soft bow shaped lips that spewed the most delicious noises, the lean but muscular body and the perfectly curled, dark, shiny hair that ruffled about with every move. In that moment, John knew he was completely and utterly wrecked.  
  
The profanities that flowed from his mouth like a waterfall had been replaced with needy, desperate moans and half formed words that he couldn't control as he reached closer and closer to what was surely the most earth shattering orgasm he'd ever experienced. Feeling Sherlock spill his seed over him was all he needed to tip him over the edge, his come splattering out and hitting Sherlock's thigh as his slowed to pants and groans.  
  
 _Holy.Fucking.Shit._  
  
He felt Sherlock collapse on him and chuckled breathlessly, his arms wrapping around the taller man. "That was..fucking amazing." He whispered, a small mewling noise coming from him as the cage continued to buzz around his over-sensitized member, causing him to move a hand down to paw at it in a futile attempt to make it stop.

 

Amidst Sherlock's unexpected orgasm he felt John tense up and come spurting lustily over his thigh. The detective's head was reeling. What John had begun by being just John, sassy, intriguing and not ordinary had Sherlock trembling. Or perhaps it was his orgasm which he denied himself so often. Or it might be both.   
  
He looked down the tanned, muscular chest and the flat belly at the cage which John was fretting at. “Oh, yes, erm.”  _Sorry, sorry._  He scrabbled to find the keypad tucked under the soft pillow. Find the damn remote.  _Hell it's here somewhere. Shitty death._  “Where IS IT” Sherlock growled at his inability to find the flat little keypad intermediately. It slid out from under the pillow and he slapped it hard into the mattress. The frantic buzzing stopped and all that could be heard was laboured breathing. “Sorry. Are you.. are you alright.” He split the silence.  
  
There was milky sperm everywhere. “Oh, for God's sake.” He exclaimed in surprise finding a splatter on his chest even. It was his own, but even so. _Tissues._  They needed tissues. Sherlock began a visual search on the cabinet and stretched a long arm out to a rectangular box. “Oooh.” He breathed and had the sense to roll off John to flay flat on the far side of the bed. He passed a wad of paper tissues across his body to John and, mopping at himself, realised that his forehead was bathed in a damp, sweaty sheen plastering his curls to his brow.

 

"Fuck, thank you for that." John whispered, starting to regain his breath as he stared up at the ceiling, one hand playing with Sherlock's inky black curls. He felt bloody amazing, he'd definitely never experienced anything like that again. "Well, that's something I'd like to use again sometime."

He was still breathing heavily as he pushed at the cage, a relieved sigh leaving him when it shut off. His hand withdrew itself and curled back up to Sherlock's back, drawing idly patterns on the milky skin as Sherlock mopped himself up. 

"Cheers." He smiled, taking the tissues and cleaning the come off of his own body, his brow creasing when he found it in the most unlikely places. Shrugging, he continued to wipe it off, throwing the used tissues in the bin when he was done. "And right now, I'm feeling fucking fantastic."

It was the truth, not a fabricated fact. He felt like he was floating, like his mind and body were seperated. He couldn't explain it, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Without saying another word he snuggled back up to Sherlock, nuzzling his face in the man's neck and smiling contentedly.

 

Sherlock found it strange and pleasant to feel John's fingers carding through his hair. It was as if a light had come on because John had touched the switch. "Er, yes, I think that can be kept on the middle shelf for another time." Sherlock agreed with John, blinking at the apparently very powerful little gadget. He was impressed.   
  
The slight discomfort of losing control of his higher faculties had given way to a new found route to get high. One far more attractive and easier to sustain if John was amenable, which from John's very honest and unabashed words of approval seemed nailed on. It was odd to find John snuggling up to him but a look at John's contentment was enough to convince Sherlock that he should try this. John's soft breath whispered over Sherlock's collar bone and he made himself comfortable on his left side resting his arm over John's ribcage and his hand slid naturally to John's shoulder blades. His finger tracked up the hollow of John's spine in the cleft of muscles that spoke of the physical fitness of a military man. He wondered idly, breathing in John's shampoo and the smell of hot sex, what John looked like in a uniform.  _Tasty!_  His fingers lingered on John's spine scratching delicately, rubbing affectionately.  _Yes, affectionately. Sentimental dope_. Sherlock smiled at his own idiocy.

 

John simply nodded and smiled again in reply, his eyes fluttering shut as he relaxed. He didn't say anything more, the only sounds being the mixture of their breathing. Either way, it was a comfortable and happy silence, the smell of sex, sweat and semen filling the air. A silence that John could most certainly get used to.  
  
His head was curled in the crook of Sherlock's neck, feeling the blood pulse around the man's body. And, oh, how he smelt. There was the distinct smell of sex, that much was obvious, but John could just detect some aftershave underneath. Hm. John made a mental note to ask about it later, but not now. As Sherlock made himself comfortable he smiled again, opening his eyes to glance up at the brunnette and smile softly before settling back down again. A small shudder ran through John as Sherlock traced his spine and the muscles there. As an act of pure instinct he stiffened for a brief moment before relaxing back into his previous position.

 

Sherlock settled down feeling John's contentment as an almost tangible thing. He was lulled into silence for a while with John's soft regular breathing on his chest and a sense of happy tiredness. He, they, could have this for a month, and it promised to be great fun too, but to be realistic then they had separate lives to go back to. He could at least ensure that John had his life to go back to and wouldn't end up on the missing list. For that he decided that John should be at least a little aware of what was happening. John would be given breakfast in the dining room in the morning with the other 'boys' one of whom 'belonged' to his rival bidder.  
  
"John?" Sherlock discovered again that he liked saying John's name. "That man who I was bidding against for you? I want to know who he is. When you go downstairs for breakfast tomorrow morning you could ask about him...but be careful. I want you to stay away from him if you see him when I'm not around too. Will you do that for me?"

 

John found himself drifting off into a peaceful sleep, the rhythmic sensation of Sherlock's pulse and the steady breathing above him proving to be quite relaxing. He was wrong, the next month would probably be the best he'd ever had. That was as long as Sherlock kept up this sort of behaviour. John wasn't sure how he'd respond to being dominated, to being tied up, but it was evident Sherlock knew what he was doing. And John was loving what he'd been doing so far.  
  
Sherlock's voice broke him from his slumber, a few sleepy murmurs coming from him as he blinked up at the curly haired man, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Whaa? Yeah, sure, whatever. Wait, what did you say?"

 

Sherlock peered at the tawny head surfacing from the crook of his neck, John, warm and sleep tousled. It was a damn attractive look on the man. "I said, that man who was bidding for you is trouble. I want to know who he is but I can't exactly say 'oh, hello, shame you lost out on a hot little number'." Sherlock gesticulated a delicate hand wave that was more camp than Butlin's. "He's not going to take that too well so he won't talk to me. I want you to find out who he is, but discreetly. At breakfast if his boy is there sit with him get talking, find out who the man is."  
  
"Oh, and try to look like I gave you a hard time. I think he was expecting you to be difficult. I dunno sit as if I've had you tied over that bench all night. Actually you um selected a...well it's not a ping-pong bat, is it." Sherlock was curious about the effect it would have on his John.

 

John continued to peer up at Sherlock as he spoke, biting his lip at the smooth baritone voice that washed over him in velvety waves. It was a sound he could get used to, that he wanted to get used to. He knew who the Sherlock was talking about, a man well known for treating slaves like toys to be broken. John despised the man, but he was unnecessary for his own mission, well unnecessary until the pieces started to fall into place, which was a while away.

John blushed as Sherlock uttered to words 'a hot little number' before pouting defiantly and huffing. "I am not little!" He protested adamantly. "I'm just shorter than you!" He added on as an afterthought, crossing his arms. "But everything else is perfectly understood. Talk to the man's slave, act like you were a brutal bastard and get any information possible."

 

Sherlock was amused by John protesting at being called a hot little number and he noted that John's only objection was to the word little, not to being hot. He was rapidly learning why people used such figures of speech. He was far too literal at times but John was very definitely hot. The amused look spread across his lips and he dropped his eyes and bit his lip as he felt bashful to let himself be seen like this. "Not little." He glanced at the shiny cage. "Anyway, yes, good, any information but stay clear of him."  
  
Rolling away from John was something he did with reluctance but he needed to search the pocket of his jacket for his phone. He stood up and cast an admiring glance up John's body not caring if John noticed. "I have to turn in for work tonight but this little thing works by remote control so I'm not taking it off you. I presume you have a mobile phone. I'll call you later on when I've finished work." He waited to see if John reached the conclusion that he was asking for John's phone number while he fished in his jacket pocket for his own phone. "It may be late, the small hours, but you can go to bed early to make up for that. You'll look suitably tired at breakfast. Goodnight"

 


End file.
